


A Small Exercise

by tenderly_wicked



Series: Dark!John [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, Deepthroating, Discipline, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Inexperienced Sherlock, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Slash, Smut, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderly_wicked/pseuds/tenderly_wicked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dark!John trains inexperienced Sherlock to satisfy him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Exercise

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta selana1505!

John likes to have serious talks to Sherlock while fingering him, thoroughly and methodically. Sherlock doesn’t contradict him then, and John is sure to have his full attention, especially if the process has already been lasting for quite a while.

Right now, Sherlock is lying on his back, so that John can see his face. He’s been told to hold on to the bedpost with both hands. John would normally use handcuffs, but there are faint abrasions marring Sherlock’s wrists, still visible after what he’s been through yesterday. It’s better to wait till they heal, before experimenting with restraints again. Besides, Sherlock should improve his self-control, he’s not good at holding himself together.

“You’re disappointing me,” John says, shoving his index finger all the way in. “You’ve been gagging again while sucking me off last night. A bit not good, don’t you think? You could be a more considerate lover, Sherlock, and do something about it. Google a few tips. Practice on a dildo.”

He’s not completely honest in his disapproval. There’s something nice, touching even, in Sherlock’s inept attempts to deep throat him. It’s most entertaining to watch Sherlock panic when he’s forced to keep sucking on John’s cock, despite the gagging reflex, because John is holding his head firmly, fingers dug deep into Sherlock’s curls.

But Sherlock is not supposed to know how charming he is. He’s supposed to feel guilty.

“I care about you,” John complains, in a very upset tone. “I spend my time showing you the pleasures of sex you’ve never known before. I buy all these toys for your little arse. And the amount of money I squander on lube for you is phenomenal – but I don’t mind, I want you to feel comfortable. What am I getting back, though? You can’t even give me a decent blowjob. That will not do. I know you are selfish, Sherlock. Very, very selfish,” he punctuates his words with harder shoves, making Sherlock jerk and gasp. “But I thought you were capable of being grateful.”

“John… I tried to… argh…”

Sherlock’s cock twitches slightly, which is rather surprising, given the quantity of orgasms forced out of him yesterday. But Sherlock’s body always responds to John’s manipulations most enthusiastically, even if Sherlock would want a break.

“You enjoy what I’m doing to you,” Johns sighs, “but you’re not ready to learn a simple trick and to please me too, in return. Isn’t it a bit unfair, what’d you think?”

Sherlock’s reply is a string of incoherent words, accompanied by a groan trembling low in his throat: “John, I will… I will try my best… I will… practice… promise.”

“Of course you will,” John confirms dryly. “I’ll see to that. You’re too lazy to do it without reminders.” Keeping his left hand busy with Sherlock’s arsehole, John pushes two fingers of his right hand into Sherlock’s mouth. “Start practicing right now. Suck.”

Sherlock’s tongue curls around them, and he begins to suck softly and eagerly. His moans vibrate across John’s fingers. It’s pleasant to have Sherlock from both ends.

“Yes, like that,” John mutters. “Tilt your head back a little. Yeah, good… Flatten the back of your tongue… No, stop, I said _flatten_ it!” Sherlock bulges it instead, the bow of his lips turned into obscene O around John’s fingers. John almost giggles, suggesting: “Imagine I’m a doctor using a tongue depressor to look in your throat. That’s how you do it.” This time, Sherlock manages to cope with the task, and John proceeds. “Force your throat open – as if you were yawning. That should counter the gag reflex. Now, take a breath…”

John slowly slides his fingers deeper along Sherlock’s tongue. Pauses for a few long seconds, then withdraws them – and repeats the process. Everything goes fine, until Sherlock’s teeth graze him slightly. John frees his hand and gives Sherlock a reproachful look. “Sherlock! I’ve told you so many times to cover teeth with your lips! I trust you to suck on my most tender parts, but you’re not careful enough to mind it. What if _I_ were that ungentle with you?”

“I’m sorry!” Sherlock almost whines, hands squeezing the slats of the headboard, body arching, as John gives his arse a few very rough jabs.

Secretly, John is proud of his own ability to drag apologies out of Sherlock. It’s easy, in fact, if you know one of his main weaknesses – he hates to be an amateur in any field of human knowledge, theoretical or practical. He’s ashamed when he makes the same mistakes, over and over again. He feels painfully insecure, his usual self-confidence shattered. It’s a child’s play to control him then. To provoke guilt, for instance. A very useful emotion. It always makes Sherlock consent to doing things he surely wouldn’t like. Speaking of which….

John shakes his head, “It’s not enough, Sherlock. Not enough just to be sorry. I guess I should choose another method of training, more intense, if you don’t appreciate normal tuition.” After another hard shove, he pulls his finger out and stands up. “Slide down here, to the edge of the mattress. Stay on your back and hang your head off the bed. I’ll go wash my hands.”

He doesn’t look back to see if Sherlock obeys.

When he returns, casually naked, having got rid of his boxers, Sherlock is already lying in said position, as expected. It provides an excellent view of his white slender neck. John comes closer, leans in and runs a hand lightly up his Adam’s apple, so vulnerable and exposed, then presses a bit harder, and feels the tripping pulse. It makes John’s erection throb in response. He strokes his cock a few times to make himself completely ready for the purpose while Sherlock is watching him from his upside down position. A few weeks ago, Sherlock would have asked apprehensively, “What are you up to?” By now, John has more or less successfully taught him to know his place – in bed, at least.

“Open your mouth,” John orders. “Wider.”

Sherlock must be well up in anatomy – he probably knows that when he tilts his head, his mouth and throat lie almost in a straight line. So John’s cock will slide in without any problems. But Sherlock won’t be controlling the depth and frequency of penetration.

“You had your opportunities to deep throat me comfortably,” John says sternly, “I’ve given you time to learn. But my patience has its limits. Lie still, don’t move.”

The bed is high, John only has to bend his knees slightly to ease his cock into Sherlock’s mouth, deeper and deeper, until the head of his cock thrusts against the back of Sherlock’s throat. Sherlock simply can’t gag. Moreover, he can’t breathe. John is blocking his windpipe, cutting off his airway. Breathing is boring, Sherlock said once. _Not_ being able to take even a small gulp of air must be thrilling for him, then. John lingers. He wonders if Sherlock jerks away, but he doesn’t. His hands clench into fists, but he stays in place.

John pulls out for an instant, unbending his knees, until only the tip of his cock is resting on Sherlock’s tongue, and Sherlock gasps in some air. Then John rams back into his mouth. It’s exciting to watch Sherlock’s throat expand and bulge as the penis slides in deep. It’s even more interesting to see desperation on Sherlock’s face as he chokes, practically suffocated, but still tries to handle the penance and not to twist out. Unbearably close to asphyxiation, he’s waiting for John to withdraw, his fingers crumpling the sheet in an unselfconscious motion.

 _Would he ever let someone else do all this to him?_ a thought blazes at the back of John’s mind. He’d like to think that Sherlock wouldn’t, and it somehow turns this brutal exercise in submission into an act of love making. For John, it’s a bit… disturbing. Less simple than it should be.

At last, he forces himself to pull away, though he’s aching to thrust into Sherlock’s mouth again and again. “Okay, that will do for now, I guess,” he says huskily.

“John…” Sherlock coughs, regains his breath. “I’m alright. Don’t worry. You can go on – if you like, if you think it helps… as a training… I’ll handle it.”

 _If you think it helps…_ Sherlock really strives to be a good lover, an ideal lover. John always thought it to be sort of vanity. But what if Sherlock just tries to be worth his praise, worth his lust? Worth being wanted that much.

John sits down beside him, touches Sherlock’s cheek lightly. “Hey. I said it’s enough. You did fine.”

There’s a mixture of surprise and relief on Sherlock’s face. And also beaming pleasure at John’s meager words of approval. He turns over and stares at John’s erection. “But… You still haven’t come.” He slides down from the bed in a rapid graceful movement and freezes kneeling at John’s feet.

“May I? Will you let me?”

John’s fingertips brush his parted lips, and Sherlock takes this gesture for permission. “I’ll be gentle,” he whispers.

Sherlock wraps his hand around John’s cock, at its base, and begins pulling slightly downwards and upwards as he works on it with his mouth. 

He’s not hopeless, not at all, John tells himself. He probably _did_ Google some tips. It feels like John’s whole cock is engorged. So good, so damn good… John’s palm is resting at the back of Sherlock’s neck, guiding him, clutching firmer and firmer. It’s absolutely fascinating to watch Sherlock losing himself like this, concentrated on nothing else but John’s cock, John’s pleasure. Oh yes, yes, that’s perfect, yes.

Maybe Sherlock deserves a little break, after all, for his diligence. John was going to make him train his deep throating techniques on a dildo, all day long. Sherlock could be practicing in the living room, naked, and on his knees, while John would be busy with mundane household chores. It would have been a lovely sight. A much better entertainment than telly.

But no, Sherlock has earned a temporary easing of discipline.

Perhaps they will use the dildo later. Not now.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on [Tumblr](https://tenderlywicked.tumblr.com) or check out my novel [Tenderly Wicked](https://www.amazon.com/Tenderly-Wicked-Katerina-Ross-ebook/dp/B01LYGUJ02/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1473767605&sr=1-1#nav-subnav) and my paranormal M/M series [The Sons of Gomorrah](http://a.co/0ttTWNF) if you're so inclined :)


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